


2. Over the Next Hill - The Uphoria Series

by Denise_Felt



Series: The Uphoria Series [2]
Category: UFO | Gerry Anderson's UFO
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise_Felt/pseuds/Denise_Felt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Straker's search for his family takes him places he would never have dreamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2. Over the Next Hill - The Uphoria Series

## 2\. Over the Next Hill

  


  
**(A UFO Story)  
** by Denise Felt 2011  
  
 **Chapter 1  
  
** "First impressions?" Mila asked him as he stood taking in their surroundings.  
  
Straker turned from the view to meet her unusual eyes. "It’s so unspoiled," he said almost in a whisper. "As if no one had ever been here before." His gaze went back to the multitude of trees all around them, trying to identify each different type of tree he saw. But he couldn’t. They were far too varied to categorize them all.  
  
Mila grinned. "Were you expecting a city perhaps?"  
  
"Yes, I suppose I was," he admitted ruefully.  
  
She shook her head. "There are no cities on Uphoria."  
  
"None at all?" he asked, quite startled.  
  
"We have villages. But something like a city on Earth? No, we have none of that here. Why would we want it?"  
  
He blinked at her for a moment, not having considered how another civilization might see an Earthman’s idea of progress. Then he nodded. "I see. Uphorians prefer a more primitive way of life."  
  
"Primitive?" she asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "If you say so." She headed down a vague path through the underbrush. "Shall we?"  
  
"Oh – yes," he said, turning away from the view to follow her. Then he gasped, going still as the scenery changed around him. He looked at her in shock. "Did I do that?"  
  
She grinned at his alarm. "Possibly."  
  
All the trees now wore autumnal colors, blazing with reds, ochres, and yellows instead of their normal varied green tones. Straker swallowed. "Um – I was just wondering what it might look like in the fall here. It was just an idle thought. Didn’t you say it had to be a strong thought to have an effect?"  
  
Mila chuckled. "Not always. You see, Uphorian flora likes to show off."  
  
"Oh." He searched the surrounding trees. "You mean, they did it because they wanted to?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
He followed her under the canopy of trees that covered the path. "Have I messed up their seasons?"  
  
"No. They’ll go back to their normal look once we’re out of sight. They just wanted to give you a show."  
  
"Are they sentient then?" he asked a trifle anxiously.  
  
Mila grinned at him. "As sentient as trees can be," she answered cryptically, then led the way through the woods.  
  
* * *  
  
They left the trees after a few hours and crossed the brow of a hill. In the valley below, Straker could see a clear stream running through a meadow thick with flowers. Once more, his analytical mind tried to determine the different types of flowers he saw as they descended the hill, but they didn’t seem to follow the patterns of growth found on Earth. Instead of growing in patches of the same type of blossoms, they alternated species with every flower, so that he quickly lost count of the myriad kinds of blooms to be seen. In spite of the chaos, however, the meadow had a cohesiveness to it that defied explanation. It was almost as if there was an actual pattern to the flowers’ growth, if only he had the insight to grasp it.  
  
Mila stopped at the water’s edge and took a long drink from her cupped hands. Straker knelt and did the same, surprised at the sweetness of the water’s taste. He began to feel hungry once his thirst was quenched, and he wondered how soon they would come upon some sign of civilization. Before they left the stream, Mila took another handful of water and sprinkled it among the flowers on the bank. He almost asked her why, but held back. The quiet gesture had seemed almost religious in its execution, and he didn’t want to offend.  
  
They soon entered another grove of trees beyond the meadow, but this time he knew what kinds of trees they were. He reached up and snagged a large red apple from a low-lying branch, although he waited until Mila had done it first before he followed her example. They munched companionably as they walked, the tart taste of the apple strong on his tongue as was the sharp scent of fruit in his nostrils. There was nothing quite like the taste of wild apples. He suddenly remembered climbing trees as a boy to get to the riper ones near the top. How exhilarating those days had been when he’d been so much a part of the world around him! A little of that freedom from all constraints lightened his eyes as he walked, and Mila smiled to see it.  
  
Later they came upon a beehive in the hollow of a tree. "Would you like some honey?" she asked him.  
  
They’d spent most of the day munching on whatever came to hand as they journeyed; apples and berries, even nuts. Honey sounded wonderful, but he eyed the bees buzzing around the hive cautiously. "Will they sting us?"  
  
She winked at him. "Not if we bless them first. Come." She led him to a spot near the tree, but away from the busy insects. She knelt on the grass, placing her palms onto the ground.  
  
Straker did likewise, then looked at her for direction.  
  
"Now," she said. "Let your mind think of flowers. Beautiful nectar-filled flowers to make any bee drunk with happiness."  
  
He understood immediately what she wanted and let his mind out of the tight grip he had placed upon it. Instantly under his hand shoots appeared, growing swiftly into stemmed buds which opened to reveal bright zinnias in varying shades of yellow and pink. Next to them he saw Mila’s flowers, bright marigolds waving boldly in the breeze. They grinned at each other over the blooms, then stood and waited.  
  
Within minutes most of the bees had left the tree to check out the flowers. Mila walked over to the hive and broke off a piece of honeycomb for him, handing it to him before getting one for herself. They feasted on the luscious treat as they continued on their way, eventually finding another stream to wash off their sticky hands. Straker didn’t think he had ever eaten anything so delicious as that bartered honeycomb, and he began to have an inkling why the Uphorians didn’t need cities to be content.  
  
When the daylight began to fade, they rested on a hillside near the shelter of a few trees. Mila ground some grain using a large flat rock while Straker scouted for fallen tree limbs for a fire. He made her laugh by using his lighter to start the fire, and he realized ruefully that she had expected him to wish it to burn. Since that was an intriguing idea, he decided that the next time, he would definitely do it the Uphorian way. They covered the dough she made with large leaves and set it on the ashes to cook, then gathered blueberries from the bushes to nibble on until the bread was done.  
  
"May I ask you something?" he said as they sat by the fire.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"On Uphoria, you can do anything you want, right? Go anywhere? Have anything?"  
  
"Within reason," she said, checking the bread to see if it was cooked. She took it off the ashes and handed him one. Then she peeled back the leaves and took a bite of hers.  
  
He lost track of his question when he tried his own bread. She’d added herbs to the dough, and the flavor was like nothing he had ever tasted before. He wondered suddenly if manna had been as wonderful as this bread, and thought that it was a shame that he wouldn’t be able to duplicate it once he got back home. Only after he had finished the small loaf was he reminded of his question.  
  
He said, "Then why didn’t we just go straight to see Grandmother Conaawa when we got here? Why haven’t we reached her yet?"  
  
She nibbled her bread, her golden eyes twinkling in the firelight. "Are you in a hurry?"  
  
He blinked at her in surprise. "Well – no. I guess not. You said that we would return to Earth right after we left."  
  
"That’s right."  
  
"So, I guess there’s no rush," he said hesitantly.  
  
She grinned. "Life is a journey, Mr. Straker. If you rush from birth to death, what have you learned?"  
  
His eyes searched hers for a moment. "Probably not a lot," he admitted. "Is that what this is? A journey?"  
  
She shook her head at him, then sprinkled the last few crumbs of her bread onto the fire. Sitting back, she brushed her lap clear of crumbs and asked quizzically, "Are you alive?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then it’s a journey."  
  
He sat back, finally grasping what she was saying. "I see." He looked around them, noticing the richness of the sunset beyond the next hill and the way the trees took on intriguing shapes as the shadows drew close in the waning light. Uphoria was similar to Earth in so many ways that it was easy to forget that he didn’t have to account for every minute of his time here. He could take as much time as he wanted searching for his family, and his work back home wouldn’t suffer for it. It was almost like a small vacation, one that he hadn’t been forced to clear with Gen. Henderson first.  
  
"May I ask you something, Mr. Straker?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"When was the last time you relaxed?"  
  
He smiled wryly. "I think I was ten," he said.  
  
She grinned. "Then I’d say that you were due."  
  
He sighed and leaned back on his arms, meeting her eyes across the fire. "I think you’re right. Thank you for today, Miss Stronghurst. I’ve enjoyed myself very much."  
  
"In that case," she said, her hand fussing with her short hair to cover her blush, "maybe you should call me Mila."  
  
"Perhaps I should."  
  
* * *  
  
They doused the fire before settling onto the springy grass to sleep. Mila rolled her sweater into a makeshift pillow, and Straker did the same with his jacket.  
  
"Will we be safe out in the open?" he asked her as he lay on his side, barely able to discern her outline in the darkness without the helpful glow of her aura.  
  
His voice had a richness to it that the night only enhanced, and Mila had to suppress a thrilling shiver before answering him. "Of course. There are no vicious beasts on Uphoria. We live in harmony with the animals, so they have no need to attack us."  
  
"Not even for food?"  
  
"No. No one on Uphoria is a predator, Mr. Straker. Including the animals."  
  
He thought about that for a while. Then he said, "I like your planet, Mila."  
  
"It’s your planet too, you know."  
  
He sighed. "I’m still getting used to that idea." He turned onto his back and looked up at the stars. After several minutes he said quietly, "Now I know I’m not on Earth. All day long it’s been as though we were walking through a park – a really big and beautiful park. But it still felt like Earth for the most part. But this – I don’t recognize any of these constellations. And it’s finally sinking in that I’m no longer on Earth. How’s that for slow-witted?"  
  
She chuckled at his dry tone. "I told you. There are places on Earth that are similar to Uphoria. Naturally you wouldn’t feel like you were on an alien planet as long as your surroundings were somewhat similar to what you know." She scooted a little closer to him on the grass, lifting a hand to point to a set of stars.  
  
"There’s Claron, the cheetah. See how fast he runs across the sky?"  
  
Straker followed her fingers and saw the vague shape of a running cheetah in the stars overhead. "He looks like he’s in quite a hurry."  
  
"He is. He fears the darkness, so he races to reach the morning sun."  
  
"Does he ever reach it?" he asked, intrigued by this glimpse into their mythology.  
  
"Ah!" she said mysteriously. "That depends on who is telling the tale." Her arm shifted. "And there is Mothal, the king of the elephants."  
  
When he saw it, he nearly gasped, the pattern was so clear. "His trunk is raised," he said in wonder.  
  
"Yes. He is trumpeting to all his people to enjoy every moment, because life is precious and not to be wasted."  
  
He raised one hand and traced a few stars. "Are these his tusks?"  
  
"They are. You have a good eye. They proclaim his sovereignty and remind us that his warning is not to be taken lightly."  
  
"And what about this long string of stars?" he asked. "Is it a snake?"  
  
Mila chuckled. "No, no, Mr. Straker! How could you? He would be so offended! That is Borneth, the serpent of the deep. See that cluster of stars at his head? If you squint, you can almost see his headdress of tentacles and make out his long sharp fangs."  
  
He pondered the image for a minute. "He doesn’t seem very friendly."  
  
"He’s not. He is angry at the world and wants only to devour everything he sees. But his place is fixed in the heavens, so he cannot move to attack. Instead, he bares his teeth and strikes a frightening pose, trying to scare those on the ground into doing his bidding."  
  
"Does it work?"  
  
She gave him a smile in the darkness. "Yes, indeed. But not the way he hopes. You see, parents tell their children of Borneth, so that they learn not to take his example and be destructive. You’d be surprised what a good object lesson like him can do for correcting poor behavior."  
  
He found himself chuckling. "My mother used to threaten me with the bogeyman, who always seemed to know when I’d done something bad."  
  
"Were you bad as a boy?" she asked. "You don’t strike me as someone who was."  
  
He shrugged. "I never meant to be. But somehow trouble seemed to find me anyway."  
  
Mila laughed. "A victim of circumstance! You poor dear. I suppose you were very curious and got into places you shouldn’t."  
  
He gave a sigh. "You sound almost as though you were there."  
  
"Oh, no!" she said. "But I have brothers. And I have found that there is always one in every family like that. And it’s usually a boy."  
  
"I was an only child, so I guess there was no chance of my parents getting away from that problem," he said wryly. Then he added softly, "Except . . ."  
  
"That you may have siblings after all," she finished for him. "We will find your family for you, Mr. Straker. I have faith in Grandmother Conaawa. She will be able to help us."  
  
"I hope she can," he said with a sigh and turned onto his side to go to sleep.  
  
After several minutes of silence, she said, "Mr. Straker. There is something we need to do before you sleep."  
  
He turned back to her. "What is that?"  
  
"You have done remarkably well keeping control of your thoughts. And I knew you would. But once you lose consciousness . . ."  
  
"I’ll lose my grip on my thoughts," he finished for her.  
  
"Yes," she said on a sigh, glad that he understood.  
  
He thought of what his nightmares usually consisted of, and said anxiously, "How do we stop that from happening?"  
  
"There is a way to bind up your mind," she said. "It’s not painful, but I’ve been told that it can feel a bit confining."  
  
"Okay," he said cautiously.  
  
"It will only be in effect while you are unconscious," she said, coming closer and laying her hands on either side of his face. "When you wake, the geas will lift from you."  
  
"What do I need to do?"  
  
"Relax," she said. "And open your mind to me. I promise that I will not harm you."  
  
He considered his options. If he did as she asked, he would be putting himself in a position of vulnerability that was unprecedented in his experience. He could just imagine what Alec would say about it. However, if he didn’t allow her to help him, there was no telling how horrific the night would become once his worst nightmares took shape in reality. "Very well," he said at last and tried to loosen his hold on his mind.  
  
Nothing seemed to be happening for a while, then he felt it – a slight questing thought. It was so alien to him that he had to forcibly stop himself from shoving it out of his mind. But as he relaxed, he realized that it seemed alien because it was feminine in nature. How odd that he could tell the gender of the thought touching his mind! As he took deep breaths, forcing himself not to panic, he could feel her twining the thought around his mind, weaving it together so that it was almost like a soft blanket by the time she was done. His mind felt cocooned and slightly hazy, but not unpleasantly so. When he opened his eyes, she lowered her hands and smiled tentatively at him.  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
"Fine," he answered. "It doesn’t feel that bad actually."  
  
"Good," she said, clearly relieved.  
  
He was struck by a thought. "How often have you done that?"  
  
"Counting tonight?" she asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Once."  
  
His breath caught. "I see. I guess I’m glad you had an idea what you were doing."  
  
She grimaced. "It’s amazing how clearly the training comes back when you need it." She settled back onto the ground and said, "Good night, Mr. Straker."  
  
"Good night, Mila." After a few minutes, he said, "You know, you’ve just been closer to me than anyone else has in my entire life. You’ve been inside my mind."  
  
"Is that a problem?" she asked softly.  
  
"No," he said. "But I suppose it’s foolish to remain formal under those circumstances. Perhaps you should call me Ed."  
  
Mila smiled at him through the darkness. "Alright. Good night, Ed."  
  
　  
 **Chapter 2  
  
** "So, how far is it to Grandmother Conaawa’s?" he asked as they set out in the morning.  
  
Mila pointed toward the distant horizon. "She’s just over the next hill. We should reach her home by noon."  
  
Straker rotated his shoulders, which had stiffened overnight from sleeping on the ground. "Does she live in a village?"  
  
"No. Just outside one. Uphorians often like their own space," she said. "Only the gregarious ones live in villages."  
  
"How about you?" he asked, curious to learn more about her. "When you’re here, where do you live?"  
  
She grinned slyly. "I’ll never tell."  
  
He was surprised and not at all certain that she was teasing. "Is it a secret then?"  
  
Mila shook her head with a lingering smile, walking toward a grove of trees. "No. Perhaps someday I’ll show you my home."  
  
Not secret then. Merely private. He could relate to that. How many people at the studio or HQ even knew where he lived? Alec. That was it. Ford might have an idea, but he’d never said. And Miss Ealand knew his address, although she’d never been to the house. He stopped for a moment, stunned to realize just how isolated he’d become from the rest of the world. When had that happened?  
  
"Ed?" She stopped too and looked at him. "Is something wrong?"  
  
He shook off his gloomy thoughts with a sigh and walked on, saying, "No. I was merely wondering how magnificent your home must be to want to keep it to yourself?"  
  
She almost answered, but caught herself in time. She shook a finger at him. "You’re sly! But I won’t tell you."  
  
He grinned. "What if I tell you about my home first? Then will you tell me?"  
  
She considered as they entered the grove. After a while she said, "Maybe. If it’s interesting enough. What is your home like?"  
  
"Hmmm." He thought about how to describe it as he held back a low branch for her. "Well, I bought the house sight unseen because I liked the location. It was secluded, surrounded by woodland, and not far from the studio."  
  
"Is it cozy?"  
  
"It’s . . ." He frowned, trying to find the right word to define his house. Empty? Barren? Hollow? Echoing? Finally he shrugged. "It’s a split level, decorated in a modern style. It’s not large, but it’s more than enough room for me."  
  
Mila found it more revealing what he didn’t say about it than what he did. "If you had to design a home from scratch, what would it be like?"  
  
Straker thought about that for a while. "I don’t know. Something on the beach, I suppose. I grew up near the ocean, and I’ve missed the sound of the waves in my ears."  
  
"That sounds lovely."  
  
"Yes, it does, doesn’t it?"  
  
She laughed at his surprise, but inside she wanted to cry. How had his life taken him so far from what he really wanted?  
  
"Tell me something," he said suddenly.  
  
"Alright."  
  
"Where do you live when you’re on Earth?"  
  
She smiled. "I have a condo in London."  
  
His brow raised. "And do you like living there so close to everyone?"  
  
"It makes a nice change of pace for me," she said with a shrug. "I like the hustle and bustle of people moving all around me. There’s an energy to it that I can tap into for my work."  
  
He nodded in understanding. "You’ve done very well for yourself, especially considering that you’re not a native of Earth."  
  
She grinned. "So have you."  
  
He shook his head at her teasing, but lost his train of thought when they came out of the trees and saw what lay ahead in the clearing. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. African huts, Indian tepees, adobe structures – something like that. Instead, there were people. No houses, just people. Sitting around small fires cooking or walking around talking to one another. There didn’t seem to be any particular dress code. They all wore whatever they seemed to have imagined for themselves to wear. Some of the clothing was stark, with muted colors and clean lines, while others were dressed as wildly as a bird of paradise. "Where are the houses?" he asked her in a whisper as they approached.  
  
"Uphorians don’t generally live in houses," she answered, waving to those who had seen them.  
  
"Why not?" he asked in surprise.  
  
"What do we need them for? Shelter?" She shrugged. "Nothing happens here to need shelter from. Permanence? We like to move around. Ownership?" She grinned at him. "What would you want if you could have everything?"  
  
He suddenly realized that she was right. On this world, whatever the people wanted, they could have. If that were the natural state of things for him, what would he end up wanting? Of course. He wouldn’t want things. He would want what he was even now seeking – connections. Meaningful relationships with the people around him. That’s what he would want most of all. He looked at the people as they came closer, humbled by their wisdom. They chattered to him in a rich language he didn’t understand, and he let it flow over him as they had him sit down by a fire and brought him food. He caught Mila’s eye and returned her smile, too bemused to be concerned that he didn’t understand their words.  
  
After a while she reached over and touched his hand. "If you wish, you can hear what they’re saying to you."  
  
It was easy to forget that whatever he wanted here was his for the asking. He briefly touched his ear, and the rich sounds the villagers were speaking resolved into words he could understand.  
  
"Please stay with us a while and tell us all you’ve seen of the world."  
  
"Do you like the polenta? I added only the best berries."  
  
"Don’t your feet hurt in those shoes?"  
  
Every voice cut off at those words, and he found himself the focus of everyone’s eye as the little girl touched his shoes. He flushed and said, "No. I’m fine."  
  
The girl frowned at him, still holding his feet. "Why would you wear shoes that hurt you?"  
  
Mila sighed and told her, "Because he wasn’t expecting to be walking so much."  
  
"Then why didn’t he change them?" the girl asked reasonably.  
  
"I forgot to," he said, feeling like an idiot for not thinking of it himself. "Maybe you’d like to do it for me?"  
  
The little girl gave him an enormous smile, then caressed his shoes. When she let them go, he was surprised to see that she hadn’t changed the outward appearance of the shoes hardly at all. But the difference in the way they felt on his feet was tremendous.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
She blushed and ducked her head. "It was as nothing," she mumbled.  
  
Straker remembered the way Mila had given something back every time they had encountered what they needed on their travels. "What can I give you in return?" he asked the girl.  
  
She looked up at that, her eyes wide. "Would you . . . tell me a story?"  
  
"Alright."  
  
The other villagers sat down where they stood, obviously expecting to be included in the telling. Straker exchanged a wry glance with Mila, then began, "Once upon a time . . ."  
  
* * *  
  
They left the village later than they had planned, but the people had been so hospitable, sharing their own stories with them and begging them to stay until _mugata_ , which translated in Straker’s ear to something like high tea. He’d never spent such a day before, relaxing and laughing at the tale of a clumsy fellow named Orlian or smiling at how the clever Regita caught the eye of the Grandmother’s son. He was quickly coming to realize that the Grandmothers on this world were the only hierarchy to be found, their wisdom and insight being sought after by everyone who knew them. He supposed on Earth the closest equivalent would be a medicine man, although medicine itself was something these people didn’t seem to need.  
  
In the middle of one man’s tale about an extremely unlucky traveler, there was a commotion and several children came running, crying and saying that Janel had fallen from a tree. Straker and Mila joined the adults in going to where the young child lay in his own blood on the ground, impaled by a broken branch when he fell. Straker’s heart was in his throat, but the people didn’t panic. A few of them – he thought they might be the boy’s parents – went forward and laid their hands on Janel’s lifeless body, while the rest of the adults laid a hand on their shoulders. When Mila put her hand on a shoulder and bowed her head, he finally understood what they were doing and did the same, sending thoughts of life toward the boy. In moments, they all moved back to let the boy get to his feet. He chattered while his parents hugged him, while the others hugged him, telling them all the wonders he had seen from the top of the tree.  
  
The villagers drifted back to the clearing while the children went back to play as if nothing had happened. Straker stood watching them for a moment, his eyes on Janel as the boy ran off into the woods with his friends on some other adventure.  
  
"You okay?" Mila asked softly, laying a hand on his arm.  
  
He nodded, not sure that he could speak yet. They returned to the village, but he didn’t talk much after that, his thoughts full of what-ifs and might-have-beens.  
  
When they finally said their farewells, they headed into the trees that covered the hillside, and as the path led upward, Straker knew that they would soon reach the place where Grandmother Conaawa lived.  
  
Mila stole a glance at him occasionally, but didn’t seem to know what to say to break his silence. Finally, she said, "I’m so sorry that I didn’t think about your shoes. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t automatically adjust your shoes to suit what you were doing."  
  
He looked at her in surprise. "No, that’s alright. It’s certainly not your fault. I’m afraid that I’m used to taking life as I find it. Complaining never seemed to change anything that wasn’t going well, except to make it even harder to bear, so I guess I learned early to just accept hardship and go on."  
  
"I suppose it may take a while for you to realize that you can have whatever you want here. I didn’t think it would, you know. You were raised on Earth, and Earthlings tend to be greedy."  
  
He acknowledged that with a wry twist of his lips. "What I’ve wanted in my life rarely had to do with tangible comforts."  
  
"That’s an odd thing for a film producer to say."  
  
He blinked at her, reminded suddenly of what she knew about him. In many ways, she’d seen him more clearly than anyone else had in his life. It was a shock to realize that there was still much she didn’t know about him. "I suppose," he admitted with a shrug, turning as he saw something from the corner of his eye. But what he thought he’d seen disappeared from view among the trees when he looked for it, and he turned back to Mila with a sigh.  
  
But she was looking toward the trees too. "Who was that?" she asked as she met his eyes.  
  
"No one," he said as calmly as possible, hoping he was right.  
  
　  
 **Chapter 3  
  
** Grandmother Conaawa was a tiny old woman with silver curls, black piercing eyes, and an aura that was so bright against the lengthening shadows that he almost had to squint. Of all the other auras he’d seen today among the villagers, none came close to having the luminosity of hers. Even Mila’s aura, which he’d found more fascinating than he would ever admit, paled in comparison. As they approached a clearing inside a circle of birch trees where she waited by a small fire, he met her dark and penetrating gaze . . .  
  
And sighed, knowing that there was no way he could open himself to her study. She carried the wisdom of centuries in those eyes and would surely see far too much inside him – certainly more than he was at liberty to share. It depressed him to know he’d come all this way, only to be unable to take that last step and get the assistance he needed to find out about his family. And he had no idea how he would explain his lack of cooperation to Mila. Or to Grandmother Conaawa herself. They would surely think he was being foolishly reluctant.  
  
"Grandmother!" said Mila, going forward and embracing the tiny woman.  
  
"Dear one," the Grandmother said in a voice far too deep for her small frame. "How good to see you!"  
  
"And you. I have brought you Ed Straker, who I told you about." Mila turned and gestured for Straker to come nearer.  
  
He took a step closer, but still kept his distance. He gave a slight bow and said, "Grandmother Conaawa, thank you for seeing me."  
  
She stared at him in silence for a long time, and he wondered if she already knew that he could not ask for her help. But then she said, "Please sit."  
  
They sat around the small fire while she walked into the birches for a moment, returning with something held in her skirt. When she sat down, she picked one of the items up and began to peel it with her little wrinkled hands. The sharp tang of citrus filled the air, and Straker saw that it was an orange. He looked at Mila in surprise, and she said, "Grandmother Conaawa used to live in a warmer climate than here, and she did not want to leave her orange trees behind."  
  
The old woman looked up from her peeling and croaked in her deep voice, "I have a young tree growing in the shelter of the birches. Since I provide it with extra light and warmth each day, it rewards me with wonderful fruit." She handed him the peeled orange and picked up another one from her lap to peel.  
  
"If you loved it there," Straker asked, "why did you move?"  
  
She smiled at him. "Change, young man. It doesn’t do to get too complacent."  
  
He didn’t know what to say to that. In his experience, the elderly did not embrace change the way Grandmother Conaawa did. Instead they dreaded it, finding it difficult to adapt as easily as they had when they were younger. He almost asked how old the Grandmother was, but good manners prevented him. Although she looked ancient, she definitely didn’t act that way.  
  
When she handed Mila a peeled orange and picked up the last one from her lap, Mila said, "Ed learned from his parents that he was found in the woods near their home. He had been placed in a hole in a tree."  
  
Grandmother Conaawa stopped peeling her orange and stared at Mila. In the manner of women everywhere, they communicated entire volumes of information in that single glance. Straker could only hope they decided to share some of it with him. Finally the old woman gave a heavy sigh and looked down at her orange. "They put him in a safe place," she murmured huskily. "No doubt intending to return for him once the threat was passed."  
  
Mila nodded. "That was what I thought as well."  
  
"They?" Straker asked, wondering why the Grandmother would assume his parents were together at the time.  
  
"Yes," she said with another deep sigh. "I do not know what calamity struck to prevent them from coming back for you, but I do know that if it had been in their power, they would have."  
  
He stared into those dark eyes and saw her grief. "You knew them."  
  
She nodded. "Yes. You have your mother’s eyes. They were always her most remarkable feature." She turned to Mila. "She was once my most promising apprentice."  
  
Mila gasped. "Arandora?"  
  
The old woman took all the peelings and laid them on her small fire. The air turned sweeter as the flames licked at them. After a long time, she lifted her eyes from the flames. "Once she met Shahon, she was useless to me, always forgetting her lessons or letting her mind wander when she needed to be concentrating. I finally told her to go, travel for a while, and return after she had given birth to her first child. I promised to bless it for her. And hoped that she would have settled into her love by then enough to take up her lessons once more."  
  
"But she never returned," Straker guessed.  
  
There were tears in the old woman’s eyes. "I was told that she had taken my advice and traveled with her mate. But I never saw her again."  
  
"And she traveled to Earth?"  
  
She shrugged. "I do not know where they went, child. But they must have somehow ended up on that world. Neither of them ever returned home."  
  
He frowned. "There was no one found with me. The police searched the woods. If they’d been killed, wouldn’t they have found their bodies? Or some sign of struggle?"  
  
"I do not have those answers for you," she said gruffly. "But I do know this: they would never have left you if they’d been alive. They would have seen you as the living symbol of their love. You would have been precious to them. Only death would have been powerful enough to keep them from you."  
  
"I suppose there’s no way to know now what happened to them," he said.  
  
"There is," she said unexpectedly, and he met her eyes in surprise. "But I do not think you will allow it."  
  
He swallowed. "How could my mind tell you anything? I was a baby, barely two months old!"  
  
"You were there, child. Therefore, you have the memories. But it would take time and trust to unlock them, and I do not think you will give me either. Am I correct?"  
  
"Grandmother Conaawa," he said sadly. "It is not a matter of trust. I have secrets I am not free to share. I do not think that you would tell them to anyone, but that doesn’t change a thing. I am bound by duty to silence."  
  
"Then I can do no more for you," she told him.  
  
* * *  
  
Once they were gone, Grandmother Conaawa left the fire and went back to the orange tree. When she returned, she sat and calmly peeled the orange she had picked. After offering the peel to the fire, she rolled the fruit in her small hands, not eating it. Just looking at it.  
  
Finally she said in her deep voice, "Are you hungry, child?"  
  
There was a gasp from the trees, and a startled movement. After a long moment, a voice answered. "Yes."  
  
She smiled, still looking only at the fruit in her hands. "Then come, join me by the fire."  
  
There was another long silence. Then a figure emerged from the birches and approached the fire. Since she paid no attention to it, merely rolled the peeled orange in her tiny hands, he eventually felt brave enough to sit on the ground near the woman and the fire.  
  
Only then did she look at him, but she said nothing as she handed him the fruit. He took it gratefully, devouring it in seconds. Then he sat and licked his fingers where the juice had run. Grandmother Conaawa reached out a hand and lightly touched him where a terrible bruise covered most of one side of his face. "You are hurt, child," she said in her unfathomable voice.  
  
He nodded, meeting her eyes at last. "I was hit by a car."  
  
"Will you be healed?"  
  
The boy shrugged and said sadly, "This is how he remembers me."  
  
"Perhaps that is so," she said. "What is your name, child?"  
  
"John."  
  
"That is a fine name," she said. "Well, John, would you be healed?"  
  
His blue eyes searched her dark ones, then he sighed. "Please."  
  
Her hand rested against his face for a time. There was no pain from the contact, only a slight numbness and then a tingling. When she sat back, lowering her hand to her lap, the boy touched his face. There was no bruise there, and his ribs no longer hurt when he breathed.  
  
"Thank you," he said.  
  
She patted his hand. "You’re a good boy."  
  
He shook his head, biting his lip. "Then why doesn’t he want to see me?"  
  
"He brought you here," she answered.  
  
"I know," he said. "Is this heaven?"  
  
Grandmother Conaawa smiled. "This is your home. You and your father are both home now."  
  
"Then why is he afraid to see me?"  
  
She sighed. "Because love can be very complicated, child. He will not always feel that way."  
  
"He won’t?" he asked eagerly.  
  
"No. Some day, he will be very pleased to see you."  
  
He smiled at that thought. Then he said, "What will I do until then?"  
  
"Well, child," she said, getting comfortable in her spot by the fire. "Would you like to hear about your father’s mother? She would have been so pleased to know you."  
  
"Gramma Straker?" he asked in confusion.  
  
"No. Your father’s real mother. Her name was Arandora, and she was training to be a Grandmother like me."  
  
"Really?" John said, scooting a bit closer. "What was she like?"  
  
　  
 **Chapter 4  
  
** By the time they reached the brow of the next hill, he ached all the way to his soul. He laid a hand on a tree trunk, feeling the roughness of the bark against his palm. "I suppose it’s useless to go on. I should just return home. There’s nothing more that can be done here."  
  
He didn’t want to go home; that was the problem. He had found something here – on this planet in the company of this woman – that he had been searching for his entire life. He couldn’t put a name to it, but he felt it nonetheless. And he didn’t want to leave, didn’t want this time to end. But he’d done what he came here to do, and found out all that he was capable of finding out about his family. There was no longer any reason to remain.  
  
Mila looked at him where he stood next to the tree, his back to her as he spoke. She heard the despair in his words and was reminded of what he had said to her earlier; that he didn’t complain when things got hard, but merely kept going, enduring the pain without comment. She blinked back tears and said, "There is much more we can do here, Ed."  
  
"What?" he asked, his head raising slightly from his contemplation of the tree, but still not looking at her.  
  
"I know Arandora’s family. And Shahon’s. They will want to meet you. They will want to get to know their child’s child."  
  
He shook his head. "No. I can’t. You see, I know how it feels to lose a child. The stabbing loss, the overwhelming grief that rises up and chokes you when you least expect it. The endless what-ifs that haunt you. I won’t do that to them. As long as I stay away, they will cherish some minuscule hope in their hearts that their daughter, their son, may one day return. Once they meet me, they’ll know the truth – and that hope will be shattered."  
  
"And you think they’d prefer to believe the lie?"  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment. "Anyone would."  
  
She touched his arm then, coming around to face him next to the tree. "You’re wrong. You would leave them with one small spark of hope instead of giving them the greater joy of your presence. Don’t you see? Your life will bless them. Just knowing that their child lives on in you will give them more joy than can be measured. You do not see what a gift you will be to them."  
  
"A gift?" he said sharply, meeting her eyes for the first time since they’d left Grandmother Conaawa by the fire. His blue eyes burned with a fierce anger. "I’m a curse!" he said harshly. "And I always have been. I bring no one pleasure. Only pain. No matter what I’ve ever wanted, that has always been the result – pain. Always."  
  
She lifted her hand from his arm and lightly touched his face. "And what is it that you want, Ed?" she asked softly, her voice a marked contrast to his.  
  
"I want . . ." All the hurt he’d ever felt in his lonely life suddenly seemed to coalesce inside him into one enormous ache, lodging in his chest and reaching up his throat so that he almost couldn’t speak. "I want . . ." His eyes searched her golden ones for an eternal moment, then he pulled her into his arms.  
  
"You!" he choked out, kissing her fiercely, releasing everything he’d held so tightly in check. "I want you!"  
  
He kissed her as though he would die without her touch, and she couldn’t have resisted that plea even if she had wanted to. Mila eagerly returned his kisses, her hands soothing him even as her lips encouraged him to greater fervor. "I am here, Ed," she murmured as he devoured her throat, as his hands raced over her body. "I am here."  
  
There was a fire in his mind, turning all his thoughts into golden flame that only rose higher the more he tried to appease them. He couldn’t even begin to put into words the cacophony of emotion that swamped him, though he tried, murmuring incoherently as he stared into her golden eyes – as he brought her with him to the springy grass at their feet, as he joined with her there in a union so dazzling to all his senses it was as if he had been struck blind and deaf in that fire.  
  
Afterward he laid spent, trying to breathe and wondering if he had even survived the encounter. Then wondering if he would ever be able to move again. And finally, he wondered if she was alright. He turned his head on the grass and saw her smile. He brought his hand up to lightly caress her cheek. "Mila," he said.  
  
"Ed," she sighed. "Feeling better?"  
  
He chuckled. "What was that?" he asked her.  
  
Her eyebrows quirked. "Do you want a blow-by-blow description or will a summary do?"  
  
Straker grinned. "A summary’s fine."  
  
She rested her chin on her hands, her golden eyes twinkling. "That, my dear man, was passion."  
  
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I know what passion is, and that went way beyond passion."  
  
Mila smiled knowingly. "Then perhaps you only thought you knew passion."  
  
He considered that for a moment, his thumb idly brushing her lower lip. "Well, then," he said drily. "I suppose I should thank you for enlightening me."  
  
She threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, Ed!" she said, still grinning. "It truly was my pleasure."  
  
"I’m glad," he said simply.  
  
She snuggled against his chest, her arms going around him, loving the beat of his heart in her ear as she drowsed. He stroked a hand down her back, enjoying the feel of her skin against his fingers. He stared up at the stars overhead, surprised to find that night had come while they weren’t watching.  
  
"Is it being here that makes it so intense?" he asked after a time. "Or would we feel the same on Earth?"  
  
Mila smiled, but didn’t raise her head. Trust him to wonder about it. "I’ve been told it’s always this way between mates, no matter where they are. Since Uphorians are forced to practice self-control from such an early age, our emotions – once released – tend to be stronger than other people’s."  
  
His breath caught. "Is that what we are? Mates?"  
  
She swallowed, aware that he had not been raised with the beliefs she had known since birth. "Only if you wish it so," she said softly.  
  
He brought his hand up into her hair, lightly caressing her scalp. "I wish it very much."  
  
She relaxed and kissed his chest, the small hairs there tickling her mouth. When she lifted her face to his, her golden eyes glowed with a light that bathed him with warmth. "Then you may have whatever you wish."  
  
"I felt you," he said, impelled to tell her how it had been for him. "Your mind, your thoughts – I felt them inside me when we touched. It was amazing. Did you feel the same?"  
  
"Yes. Even our auras joined. Did you notice?"  
  
He shook his head ruefully. "I only saw you."  
  
She reached up and kissed him, pleased with his answer. "Maybe next time you’ll see it."  
  
"Does that always happen when Uphorians make love?"  
  
"No. Only when mates do."  
  
"Is that how you know you’re mates?" he asked.  
  
She grimaced slightly. "Hopefully, you have some idea before then."  
  
"When did you know?" he asked her quietly.  
  
She gave him a wry look. "That night – at the party. When you spoke to me."  
  
His heart gave a great bound, and a smile spread across his face. "Me, too. Only it absolutely terrified me. You have no idea how much time I spent trying not to believe everything you’d told me that night."  
  
She ran a hand down his cheek. "I didn’t mean to frighten you."  
  
"Not frighten," he corrected. "Terrify. I’d never felt anything like that before, and I was afraid to trust any feeling that was that strong. But once I saw you again, I knew there was no denying what I felt. I had to follow you – wherever you led me. Even if it destroyed me."  
  
Her unusual eyes searched his for a moment. "I would never hurt you, Ed. Don’t you know that? I love you."  
  
He sighed on hearing those words. "I don’t know why. You know me well enough by now to have many reasons to doubt who I really am. Yet you don’t ask any questions. Why is that?"  
  
She grinned at him. "I asked if you were feeling better."  
  
He bit back an answering grin. "You know what I mean."  
  
Her grin faded as she looked at him, and she answered seriously. "All I need to know of you I see in your eyes, Ed. And how can I not love the man I see there?"  
  
"Mila," he murmured, incredibly moved by her words, his hands coming up to frame her face. "Mila, is it truly that simple? That you can see me so clearly, yet love me just the same?"  
  
She smiled slyly at him, sliding up to take him into her as she straddled him. At his gasp of pleasure, she began to move slowly, saying mischievously, "What’s not to love?"  
  
Once more, a smile spread across his features. "Oh, Mila!" he sighed. "How I adore you!"  
  
* * *  
  
She was half asleep in his arms, her body wonderfully boneless and sated, but she could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. With a sigh, she raised her head from his chest and met his eyes in the darkness. "One of us," she said with a wry look, "thinks too much."  
  
Straker acknowledged the truth of that with a quirk to his lips. "Am I keeping you awake? Sorry."  
  
"What troubles you, Ed?"  
  
He sighed. "It’s just – I wish I could just stay here with you. Always. Enjoy this planet and your company without any of the constraints I have to deal with back on Earth."  
  
"But you can’t," she said, hearing it in his voice.  
  
"I can’t," he agreed sadly. "But – oh! I wish I could!"  
  
She frowned at him. "I don’t see the problem. I can come to Earth as often as I wish, and you can come here, as well. Where’s the difficulty?"  
  
"Those constraints I mentioned," he said. "They won’t allow us to be together there as I would wish."  
  
"Oh." She thought a minute. "Are you allowed a lover?"  
  
He grimaced. "Yes, although Alec would probably have a heart attack."  
  
"Who’s Alec?" she asked, smiling to hear the sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"My best friend. But, Mila. I want so much more than . . . !"  
  
"I know," she interrupted, soothing him with her hands and her voice. She had no concrete idea of what his work demanded from him, only aware that it asked too much. And she had no intention of leaving him to face it alone. "What about a mistress?"  
  
"Oh, God! I don’t – ! That’s not how I think of you, or what I want for you!"  
  
"We are mates, Ed," she said calmly. "No other designation means more than that one. I will be whatever you need for me to be on Earth. As long as we’re together."  
  
He gave a deep sigh and stroked her arm. "I want to marry you."  
  
She grinned. "Oh, Ed! Don’t you know how absurd all those trappings are? Fancy dresses and cakes and solemn words? They mean nothing. What is real is what is in our hearts."  
  
"I know," he said, surprised by how much he agreed with her. He’d never had anyone explain it so clearly before, but that was how he’d always secretly thought of the ceremonies attached to getting married. "I guess I need to know you’re bound to me as I’m bound to you."  
  
She kissed him. "Always and evermore. And if you ever start to wonder, just look at our auras." She gestured to the side, where he could see their auras in the darkness intertwined with each other as if they belonged that way.  
  
"Mila? Do you know how much I love you?" he asked huskily, turning to bring her beneath him on the soft grass.  
  
Her arms came up to encircle his neck. "By all means," she murmured, "show me."  
  
 **  
Chapter 5**  
  
She woke very suddenly a few hours later, certain that something was wrong. She cautiously raised her head from where it had been pillowed on his shoulder and looked around. There! In the trees a figure moved, the moon overhead glinting off the machine gun he carried. He was dressed oddly, looking almost like an astronaut in his chunky red spacesuit. But Mila did not feel at all like smiling at his appearance. Instead, she was filled with a dread she had never experienced before.  
  
"Ed!" she whispered, shaking him slightly. "Wake up!"  
  
He was instantly awake, even his energetic evening unable to counteract years of training. He met her eyes in the darkness. "What is it?" he whispered.  
  
"We forgot to bind your mind," she said. "And now we have company."  
  
He followed her gaze to the trees and froze in horror. What had he done? How could he have brought his own hell to her world? "Mila," he said quietly, never taking his eyes off the figure searching in the trees. "Run! Get as far away from here as you can!"  
  
"No! I will not leave you!"  
  
"You don’t understand!" he whispered fiercely, desperate in the knowledge that he wasn’t even armed. "It’s me he wants. Please, go while you still can!"  
  
"He is from your mind," she reminded him.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Then you must send him back there."  
  
He met her eyes in surprise. "How? How can I do that?"  
  
"It is not an easy thing to teach," she said. "But if you’ll trust me, I can help you to do it."  
  
"Yes. Please!"  
  
She laid her hands on his cheeks, gazing into his panicked eyes calmly. "Picture him in your mind just as you saw him in the trees. No, don’t look. See him only in your mind. Is he there?"  
  
He tried to focus on what she was telling him, forcing back the terror that wanted to overwhelm him. He had brought this danger to her! How could he have forgotten for a moment that Uphoria could be highly dangerous to the unwary? "Yes," he said after a minute. "I see him."  
  
"Now, make the picture go hazy. Deliberately create wavy lines that disrupt his image in your mind. Distort his shape until it is nothing more than a blur. Then wash it away completely."  
  
Straker did as she suggested, his heart in his throat and his stomach in knots, not knowing where the alien might be at this moment and wanting more than anything to get her to safety before they were found. But he knew that this was their best hope of stopping what his unbound dreams had wrought. So he concentrated on disrupting the image of the alien, blurring it, and then finally washing it away.  
  
When he opened his eyes, she smiled and kissed him. "See? He is gone," she said. "You sent him back into your dreams."  
  
"Thank God!" he said fervently. "Mila, I’m so sorry."  
  
"Shh!" She laid a finger on his lips to silence him. "It was more my fault. I know the dangers better than you, but I let myself get distracted by the pleasure of your company. It’s alright now. You did very well in getting rid of him. I’ll bind your mind for you, and we’ll both be able to go back to sleep."  
  
He frowned slightly, his thoughts snagging on something he almost remembered. Then she placed her hands back on the sides of his face and said, "Relax. Open your mind once more. I will not hurt you."  
  
He obediently opened his mind for her as she began to weave a thought into a blanket to shield his imaginings. Then he heard it – the sound of rapid gunfire. And she fell with a gasp against him, pinning him in place. His eyes flew open and saw an alien in the trees on this side of the clearing, his gun at the ready to finish them both off. And he suddenly remembered what he had forgotten in the thrill of destroying the other alien: they hunted in pairs.  
  
Mila was a dead weight on his lap, and he had no idea if he could bring her back. But he knew there wasn’t time to try to revive her first. The alien was already taking aim. He closed his eyes and forced his terror and grief out of his way, picturing the alien as she had shown him, then fuzzing it up, distorting the image until it was nothing but a smudge on his mind. Then with an expelled breath, he washed it away. Opening his eyes, he looked toward the trees.  
  
But there was nothing there. He gave one great sob of relief, then shifted Mila off his lap so that he could see her clearly. Her blood was everywhere, staining their clothing and still flowing from her body. He laid his hands on her stomach, in the midst of the worst of her injuries, and closed his eyes once more. He wasn’t entirely sure how the villagers had done it earlier with the boy, but he had to try. He could not let his enemies take her from him. He could not!  
  
Aware on a subliminal level that he had to set aside his anger for this to work, Straker forced his thoughts to focus only on making her well. He shoved everything from his thoughts but her, envisioning her as she had been earlier, smiling and laughing with him, gazing at him with her beautiful golden eyes as if he were the world to her. He brought image after image of her into his mind – the way she had looked that first night, softly glowing as she stood on the terrace, entrancing him with everything she said and did. The way she’d looked when she offered to take him back with her to Uphoria, wanting nothing more than to help him find the answers to his questions. And her teasing way of showing him the fallacies of his logic when she disappeared by the tree, smiling slyly at him the entire time. Ah, God! He loved her so much! He could not lose her now!  
  
Then he felt movement under his hands, and his eyes flew open. Mila smiled at him, her hands coming up to cover his on her body. "Ed," she said softly. "You are so amazing!"  
  
"If it wasn’t for me . . . !" he began, all the emotion of the past minutes turning inward to lash at himself for letting down his guard.  
  
"No!" she said sharply, cutting him off as she sat up. She took his hands in hers and gazed directly into his eyes. "You have done incredibly well for someone unschooled in these things. You defeated the monsters from your nightmares. You saved my life. All without the training you should have been given since childhood. Do you know how difficult it is to teach an adult mind these things? Yet you catch on so easily. I am in awe of you."  
  
He grabbed her close, needing to feel her life after witnessing her death. "I had to do it," he murmured, kissing her all over her face. "There was no going on without you. I had to have you back!"  
  
She closed her eyes, luxuriating in his kisses, but when he came down on the grass next to her, taking their touches to a deeper level, she stopped him with a hand on his chest.  
  
"You’re right," he said with a sigh, loosening his hold on her. "We need to sleep."  
  
Mila grinned. "Oh, I don’t know about that,"" she said, her eyes twinkling at him. "But before we do anything, Ed, we need to finish binding your mind."  
  
He smiled ruefully. "You won’t get an argument from me."  
  
* * *  
  
When he woke in the morning, she was nowhere in sight. But she had thoughtfully laid out fresh clothing for him, although he was puzzled at first why she felt the need to string each piece out along a makeshift path through the trees. Until he heard her splashing and followed the rest of the clothing to a small crystal clear pond in a sunlit clearing.  
  
"Good morning!" she called when she saw him at the water’s edge.  
  
"It’s certainly a beautiful one," he answered with a smile in his blue eyes, wading into the water to join her.  
  
Breakfast was late, but they had worked up a good appetite for it by the time they ate. He nibbled on blueberries once he was full and considered. If he could do anything he wanted, he had to admit that returning to Earth wasn’t at the top of his list. And if he was going to remain on Uphoria for a few more days and enjoy his mini vacation from the demands of his work, then it was only fair that he let Mila take him to meet his parents’ families. He could only hope that she was right and they would receive him without a lot of weeping.  
  
* * *  
  
They returned to Earth a week later, coming back into the park moments after having left it. When Mila started to walk toward the entrance to meet back up with the security detail, Straker stopped her.  
  
"We can’t leave the park yet," he admonished. "We only just arrived here in their eyes."  
  
As he slid his arms around her, she leaned into him and said saucily, "Well. What shall we do with ourselves until it’s safe to go?"  
  
He nipped at her lips, then kissed his way to her throat, which was one of his favorite places to nuzzle. "I’m sure we’ll think of something," he murmured.  
  
* * *  
  
An hour later, he entered his studio office and gave his secretary a sunny smile. "I’ll be downstairs, Miss Ealand, if you need me," he said, then breezed into his inner office and closed the door.  
  
His secretary, being no fool, immediately got on the phone to Col. Freeman at the hospital.  
  
* * *  
  
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," Straker said as he came by the Communications station in HQ.  
  
Ford looked up in surprise, unused to hearing his commander speak to him in such mild tones. "Uh – good afternoon, sir. Col. Lake and Col. Foster are in your office, working on the duty roster."  
  
"Excellent," the commander said, beaming at him. "You look a little tired, Ford. Why don’t you take a break and go outside, maybe get some fresh air for a bit?"  
  
The lieutenant’s mouth fell open. "Ye - yes, sir. Thank you, sir!"  
  
Straker smiled benignly at him and went into his office. Ford stayed where he was for another minute, unsure if any of that had really happened. But Ayshea came over and ousted him from his chair, saying, "You heard the commander. Go take a break!"  
  
He left the Control room in a daze.  
  
 **  
Chapter 6  
  
** Alec woke, feeling a hand on his arm. He blinked in the light of the hospital room and saw his old friend standing next to his bed. "Ed?" he asked groggily.  
  
"Hello, Alec," Straker said. "I didn’t mean to wake you."  
  
"No, that’s alright. I must have fallen asleep after the physical therapy."  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"A bit sore, but otherwise okay." The colonel looked closely at his friend, then at the hand still on his arm. "How are you, Ed?"  
  
Straker lowered his hand with a sigh and went to the bedside chair to sit. He’d been fairly sure that what worked on Uphoria wouldn’t necessarily work on Earth, but he’d had to try. "Fine."  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"Yes. It’s been a pretty quiet day, all in all. No alerts."  
  
"What about Mila Stronghurst? Didn’t you see her today?"  
  
"Yes." Straker met his eyes briefly. "You seem to have no trouble keeping up with what I’m doing."  
  
Alec shrugged. "People care about you, Ed. They worry."  
  
The commander sighed again. "I know. And you’re the biggest worrier of all, aren’t you?"  
  
His friend grinned. "It’s in the fine print of my job description."  
  
"Well, you don’t have to worry about Mila," Straker said. "She wasn’t anything like what we were worried about."  
  
"Okay. What did she want?"  
  
"Nothing. She really was trying to help."  
  
"I see. And you know this because . . . ?"  
  
"We – discussed it when I saw her today."  
  
"Oh?" Freeman cocked a brow at him. "In your office? Or on the back lot?"  
  
Straker stiffened in surprise, but sat back when he met his friend’s concerned eyes. His lips thinned for a moment, then he said, "I see that your intel is as thorough as ever. Look, Alec. It’s not what you think."  
  
"You have no idea what I’m thinking."  
  
The commander shook his head. "Actually, after all these years, I have a pretty good idea." As much as he would have liked to tell his friend everything that he’d experienced this past week, he knew that doing so would only make Alec worry more. He wouldn’t understand how Mila could be an alien without being an enemy. And he definitely would have a hard time accepting that his friend and commander was an alien too. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words to say. Finally he said, "I love her, Alec."  
  
"I see." Damn it! Now what was he to do? The only time he and Ed had ever had a falling out was when his friend had fallen in love with Mary Phillips and wanted to marry her. Nothing Alec had said had gotten through Ed’s thick skull, and he’d said quite a bit. In fact, the only result from that discussion had been that their friendship had cooled for a time. Only after Alec had gone to him, telling him that he’d been wrong, had things returned to normal between them. For the sake of his friend, Alec had held his tongue, even going so far as to be Ed’s best man at their wedding. He knew quite well from that experience that in matters of the heart, Straker was as blind as he was stubborn. Still, he knew he had to try to get through.  
  
"Ed, are you sure you’re thinking clearly? That you’re not just seeing everything through a sexual haze?"  
  
Straker got up and walked to the window, drawing back a drape to gaze outside at the rainy night. "I know you and I don’t see eye to eye when it comes to relationships, Alec. So I don’t expect you to understand how I feel about Mila. But I want you to know that I’m happy. And I hope you can find it in yourself to be happy for me."  
  
Freeman closed his eyes for a minute. Then he said, "You planning on marrying her?"  
  
"You know I can’t do that," the commander said tersely. "There’s no way Security will allow me to marry a civilian. If Mary and I hadn’t already been married when I took over SHADO, we never would have gotten married. Regulations are quite strict on that point. The C-in-C is not allowed that degree of freedom."  
  
Alec breathed a small sigh of relief that his friend wasn’t so far gone on this girl that he forgot his duty. "So, what’s the plan? Knowing you, you have one."  
  
Straker knew no way to explain to his friend the connection he and Mila shared, a connection much deeper than marriage would ever be. "Suffice it to say, I’m taking it one day at a time."  
  
"And how does she feel about that?" the colonel asked skeptically.  
  
Unexpectedly, his friend grinned, remembering Mila’s disparaging words about weddings. "She’s fine with it. I wish . . ." He broke off and shook his head, turning back to the window.  
  
But Alec had no problem finishing his thought. He wished Alec was fine with it too. Freeman looked at his friend, seeing the stoic manner in which he handled all hurt apparent in the line of his back and the tilt of his chin. "Well," he said with a wry smile. "I hope you at least let me meet her."  
  
Straker glanced at him in surprise. "You want to meet her?"  
  
"Of course. Besides, if she’s as wonderful as you say, maybe I can talk her into going for the better man."  
  
The commander grinned at him, relieved that he was willing to withhold judgment on her. "I’m not worried about that," he said, coming back to the bedside. "I plan on taking her to Boston soon to meet my parents. They’re going to love her, I’m sure. But I’ll bring her here to see you first, Alec. You won’t be able to keep from liking her. I just know it."  
  
"I’m sure you’re right," agreed the colonel.  
  
* * *  
  
"Do you like this?" she asked, looking from the thorny metal sculpture hanging on his living room wall to him.  
  
Straker shrugged. "I don’t dislike it."  
  
She sighed, gazing around the cluttered room for a minute almost in despair. "You don’t even see any of it anymore, do you? You’ve gotten used to it."  
  
He followed her gaze around the room. "I know it’s gotten a bit crowded over the years. I keep meaning to weed some of it out, but somehow I never get around to it."  
  
Mila gave him a stern look. "And you’re hoping I’ll do it for you?"  
  
"Well," he said with his most charming smile. "You do have an artistic eye. You’re bound to do a better job of it than I would."  
  
She shook her head at him. "Does that approach work well for you at the studio?"  
  
He grinned. "Actually? Yes."  
  
"I believe it," she muttered.  
  
He came closer, drawing her into his arms. "Seriously, Mila. Change whatever you like. I won’t mind. None of it has any special meaning to me. Except the print over the fireplace."  
  
Since the print he spoke of was one of her photographs, she knew he was being facetious. But she had been secretly delighted to see it there when he’d brought her to his house. She hadn’t known he’d bought any of her work, since he hadn’t mentioned it when he’d told her about attending her gallery. "The thing is, Ed, that I’m going to need your help to replace all this with things that will have meaning for you."  
  
"Like what?" he asked, intrigued by the thought.  
  
"Like that print, for example."  
  
He smiled. "Does this mean that I’ll get more of your work for my walls?"  
  
She sighed. "Surely other things matter to you?"  
  
"I’m a film producer, Mila. My storerooms at the studio are full of stuff just like this. Truthfully, very little of any of it matters to me. Except people. People matter."  
  
Yet his house boasted no portraits on its walls. There was a small photo that he kept in the drawer of his nightstand next to his bed, but that was the only one. And even that one was hidden away. She wondered if he had any idea how lonely his life was?  
  
"Alright. I’ll see what I can do," she said. "Between us, we should be able to make this place somewhere you will want to be."  
  
He nuzzled her neck. "As long as you’re here, I’ll always want to be here."  
  
* * *  
  
While they prepared their dinner, he told her about going to see Alec at the hospital. "I laid my hand on him, hoping to help him recover faster, but it didn’t work. Earth isn’t like Uphoria at all, is it?"  
  
She smiled at him as she lit the candles. "How do you know it didn’t work?"  
  
He stared at her in surprise. "Well – because he’s still injured."  
  
"Perhaps. But the good wishes of those who love us can only ever be beneficial. Who knows? He may heal several days earlier than he would have without your healing touch."  
  
He considered that as they sat down to eat. Finally he asked, "Then Earth is like Uphoria?"  
  
"All planets are inherently alive," she explained. "And want the best for the species that dwell on them. Uphoria is just highly developed in giving its denizens what they need."  
  
"Have you been to other planets?"  
  
"Of course. Like your mother, I too am studying to become a Grandmother some day. It is required of us to travel, so that we may broaden our understanding of our own world."  
  
"Can you go anywhere you want?" he asked sharply.  
  
"Yes." She met his eyes and frowned, aware that she had caught his interest, but not sure how. "Did you have somewhere specific in mind?"  
  
He lowered his gaze to his meal and picked up his fork. "I’ll have to get back to you on that," he said blandly.  



End file.
